“His office was buried in books and I wanted to read all of them. I wanted to sit in a chair with every book he’d ever sat with, think about him thinking through all those sentences and pages and chapters. Here was his heart: in these books. He had loved them and so I would love them.”
This is how I feel about every book Ann Patchett champions. And definitely every book she writes. These past few months alone, she’s led me to John of John, The Left and the Lucky, Small Things like These, and Things in Nature Merely Grow. She loved them and so I knew I would love them. And love them, I did.
But none have I loved as much as her latest, Whistler. Reader, it may be my favorite Ann Patchett to date. Recency bias? I don’t think so. You see, this summer I’ve been trying to strengthen my hope muscles in an effort to reorient my spirit. A night singing at the top of my lungs, along with Noah Kahan and 50,000 fellow hope-seekers, my kids among them, healed something in my fractured heart. As has the return of the most hopeful character on the tele, Ted Lasso. And Anne’s Whistler? It kicked off my summer search for the silver linings girl I’ve always been and knew was still there, deep down. Ann once said that she “wants to write stories about good people who are kind to each other.” With Whistler, she’s done just that, and in turn, quietly buoyed this girl’s hope in humanity.
There’s so much to love about this beautiful book that it’s hard to know what to highlight. For me, though, I think Tracy’s way of ranking books by how much we miss the friends we make in them reveals what I love most: Daphne and Eddie. Their relationship (both the brief moment in time they shared in the past and when they find each other again) is what makes this novel sing. It’s a monument to the impact we can have on one another, no matter how long or short the encounter. It’s also a gentle reminder that we’re all just making our way the best we can, that none of us truly have it all figured out, so let’s try to be good to each other.
PS. If you’re a listener, Ann’s narration is perfection. I mean, what’s better than the lovely Ann Patchett in your ear, spinning the loveliest tale? One friend told me she’s been listening on repeat, just for the hope of it all.
